


An Unfortunate Encounter

by auberus, Morgyn Leri (morgynleri)



Category: Highlander: The Series, X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe, Crossover, Don’t copy to another site, F/M, GFY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-28 18:20:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19399753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auberus/pseuds/auberus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgynleri/pseuds/Morgyn%20Leri
Summary: Methos regrets everything about that one thankfully short-lived lifetime, including the fallout afterward. Though whether meeting Sabretooth and his current partner or having to deal with the X-Menagainis more irritating, he's not certain. At least the X-Men don't appear inclined to kill him.





	An Unfortunate Encounter

Methos leans back against the pillows so thoughtfully provided by the coffeeshop in which he's spending the afternoon, and gives in to the urge to prop his feet on the low table in front of him. It's probably one of the last independently owned coffeeshops in Washington State, and it undoubtedly won't last for much longer -- there's a Starbucks only seven blocks away, and Kilmary is not a large enough town to support both businesses. He'll miss it when it's gone. The coffee isn't that great, but the atmosphere is quiet, and there's a wireless connection, which means that he can hack into the Watcher's database and keep an eye on Joe and the Scottish Pain in the Ass without ever having to set foot in Seacouver. It's all too possible that one of Stryker's people made the connection between Sergeant Lyman and Adam Pierson, and not only is he anxious to avoid a return to government service, but he really doesn't want to explain the whole Stryker fiasco to Joe and MacLeod. Sighing a little, he takes a sip of his coffee, flexes his fingers, and goes for round two of breaking through the new firewalls the Watchers have installed around their database.

The little town near the safe-house Sabretooth had brought her to usually doesn't have much in the way of entertainment, except what's provided by the handful of tourists passing through, and making use of the wireless internet at one or another of the coffeeshops. Hack knows that downloading porn or viruses onto their computers is probably something her sisters would both disapprove of, and that's some of the thrill in it. The other part, of course, is managing to do so without them noticing she's done anything until their computers melt down, or children ask what the pictures are for.

So when she finds a new computer, she smiles to herself, nestling closer to Sabretooth's warmth as she worms her way into the depths of the computer. Going utterly still as she finds something she didn't expect, her smile fading into a dark frown. There's something about it that bothers her, though she can't interpret it all. And there's the distraction, too, of a new database the owner of the computer is trying to hack into. She hesitates a moment, even though she knows it might slow the computer she's wound herself into a bit, before murmuring to Sabretooth, "There's someone new in town, who might need killing. There's something on his computer I don't like."

"Take that," Methos mutters, then whacks the side of the machine. "Bloody technology." He's in, but the wireless here must be for shit, because the database is taking forever to load. In a lovely bit of poetic justice, he's using Robert Morris' account, since Morris is an arse and can't be bothered to change his password more than once a year, despite security protocols that Methos suspects were deliberately designed to keep 'Adam Pierson' from doing exactly what he's doing now. The program finally loads, and he goes through his usual routine: checks to see who's in his area that might end up causing him problems, checks on MacLeod, and checks the date of Joe's last report. Everything seems to be just fine-- MacLeod is still in Seacouver, Joe's last report was filed two days ago, there are no Immortals in Kilmary, and there's no Watcher on Methos himself. Satisfied, he starts reading Joe's reports, keeping tabs on MacLeod by proxy.

"Simon of Kilmeeren?" he mutters to himself. "Why am I not surprised." Kilmeeren had been a vicious bastard. He'd also been stupid enough to challenge MacLeod, so now he was a dead one. "Christ, Highlander. It's like you advertise or something."

"What's wrong with his computer?" Sabretooth's voice holds a growling undertone that is warning he's not particularly happy about being disturbed.

Hack gives a purely mental roll of her eyes before she starts copying the data that bothers her from the stranger's computer to her own much-neglected laptop that sits on a corner of the kitchen table. "It's a database full of information on people. Mutants, because there's information on abilities that no human would have." She's interpreting as she copies, and her scowl deepens. "Almost fourty years of data. I might be able to find a name connected with it, sifting through it all." And there was the other database, which looked less disturbing, and more entertaining. The history of lives that seemed impossibly long, and records of deaths and something called a 'Quickening'.

She ignores the fact that her draw on the processor of the laptop she's hacked will cause a lag in its response to the owner's commands, since she intends to utterly corrupt the hard-drive once she's collected the information she's after, and located the other database the computer is accessing. Continuing to work at it as she rolls away from Sabretooth, groping for her clothes. "Stryker is a name that keeps coming up in the documents, but I don't think that he's the owner of the laptop. Someone associated with him?"

Email's next, after Methos ensures that Cassandra -- and a few other Immortals -- are still safely in their usual haunts.

The only thing in his inbox that isn't spam is a message from Amanda, which he opens with great trepidation. Since it's an offer to rob the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History, he sends back a strongly-worded 'no' message, with a good dose of sarcasm to reinforce his position.

He's trying very hard to avoid DC at the moment -- to avoid all major cities, but DC especially, and even if he weren't, he's seriously uninterested in involving himself in one of Amanda's schemes. Getting arrested would likely be just as bad as going into Washington -- probably worse, now that he thinks about it. He's not sure how much of Stryker's organization is left, but he doesn't want to take the chance.

The mention of Styker is enough to get Sabretooth not to pull her back into bed, the two dressing in silence as Hack continues to download the contents of the laptop. A record should be kept of that information - it might be useful - but it certainly shouldn't be in the hands of anyone who might be involved in experimenting on mutants. Hack drops into a chair to lace on heavy combat boots, one corner of her mouth curling up in a smile as she finished copying the database onto her own computer. Waiting to actually corrupt the hard-drive until she's closer, when whoever owns it can't run before Sabretooth catches up with him.

Her helmet is designed not to interfere with her powers, and Hack continues to poke through the computer as they drive into town, the motorcycle purring to a halt outside the local coffeehouse when she says she's found the computer. Too quiet for anyone other than Sabretooth to hear, and she smiles to herself behind the dark faceplate of her helmet.

She leaves it perched on the seat of the bike, stripping off her gloves as she walks toward the coffeeshop, blazing a path through the hard-drive as she opens the door. A faint, soft smile on her face that almost makes her look innocent. An expression that's fooled more than one person in the past, to their detriment. She's almost tempted to send a virus chasing after the email the man had sent shortly before she corrupted his computer, but it's not important enough to do more than think about it.

"_Fuck_, Methos snarls, and adds a few more words that are considerably more obscene, and a few thousand years older. Some bastard's stuck a virus into his computer, and if he's not careful, it'll get into the database and he'll be seriously fucked. He hunches over the keyboard, tapping away frantically, trying first to isolate the virus, and then when that doesn't work, methodically severing every connection between his computer and the database. He manages, finally, and sinks back slightly, cursing under his breath, before he starts opening files to see what, exactly, the little fuck who did this has destroyed. When he sees the damage done to the files he's kept on Stryker's experiments, he slams the laptop shut in a fit of temper, and follows it up by hitting the table hard enough to break his hand. He'd spent half a year in slavery of the most vile sort, come far too close to true death for his own comfort, and now all the results of that work were gone in seconds. "Fuck!"

Hack raises an eyebrow at the expletives, settling herself in one of the comfortable chairs the coffeehouse offered. "Trouble?" she asks quietly, giving him a mildly concerned look, the same soft smile on her face that's been there since she walked in. She can see Sabretooth out of the corner of her eye, circling around the other side of the room toward the man who's just attracted her attention. The man with the computer full of information that still makes her furious, knowing what humans will do to mutants if they are given the chance.

"Computer problems," Methos says curtly, flexing his hand -- carefully out of sight -- as the bones knit themselves back together. He's really not in the mood to be sociable -- he has backups of the information, but they're tucked away in places that aren't really accessible unless he wants to stop lying low -- and he doesn't.

He's about to excuse himself and go call Joe -- the Watcher won't be happy, but he needs to know that the database might be corrupted -- when he notices the man slinking around to come at him from behind. He sets off every one of Methos' alarm bells, save for the one that says 'Immortal' -- and he reminds Methos more of Kronos than any mortal has the right to.

Methos isn't about to stick around and see what the guy wants. He's off his feet in an instant, eeling through the crowd with a grace borne of long practice, and is into the street before he feels the hand on his shoulder. He spins around, reaching for his gun,only to find himself slammed against the wall hard enough that he sees stars.

"Going somewhere?" Sabretooth grins at the man, keeping his arm pressed across his throat. Not killing him yet, waiting instead for Hack to slip back out of the coffee house. Her eyes are lit with glee as she settles onto the motorcycle, watching him avidly. The delight she takes in his kills is fascinating to watch, matching his own joy in the kill.

"Oh, he's not going anywhere at all, Sabretooth. He dropped his laptop, the silly man." She taps her fingers on the case of the computer, smile sharp and cold. "Not that it's been behaving today, has it, Mr. Lyman?"

Methos snarls one of Caspian's favourite curses, then follows it up with a more modern imprecation. "Go fuck yourself," he suggests.

The moment he'd run it had become too late to pretend innocence; the man who had him has to be one of Stryker's mutants-on-a-leash, and the girl probably is, too.

He treats them to a string of obscenities that would have made Kronos raise appreciative eyebrows, and tries to break free. It fails -- seriously fails -- to work.

Sabretooth chuckles, amused both by the obscenities - not all of which he recognizes - and the struggles that most humans wouldn't be able to keep up with him holding them above the ground like he is. It's possible the man isn't entirely human, one of those Stryker coerced or bribed into his program, but that's not his concern. Only that the man is associated with Stryker, and even with the colonel dead, there's a risk with anyone who's worked with the man being in his town.

"Oh, really, I prefer Sabretooth to fuck me, rather than doing it myself. Hands aren't nearly as satisfying." Hack shrugs, still watching the man, her head tilted to one side. "You've been a very naughty man, Mr. Lyman. Working with someone like Stryker, hurting mutants." She shakes her head with an expression of mock-sorrow on her face. "And then to come here... well, that really isn't too bright. Your kind aren't welcome here."

Methos relaxes a little bit. This is a contingency he's prepared for. "It wasn't by choice," he snarls, letting a little bit of the anger he'd felt at being caged slip into his voice and eyes. "Check the back of my bloody neck," he suggests. It's the first new scar he's gotten in five thousand years, and its presence there still infuriates him. "Turns out that damned mind-control serum of his works on me, too."

He kicks his captor, unsurprised that it's an ineffective move. "Put me down, damn you. You can't kill me, and you really don't want to piss me off."

"Hm." Hack tilts her head the other way, giving Lyman an assessing look. "A pity, if Sabretooth can't kill you. I was really looking forward to seeing some blood shed today." She tucks the laptop into a saddlebag, hopping off the bike again a moment later.

Shifting his grip to the man's arm as he lets him drop to the ground, Sabretooth hauls him around enough to check the back of his neck. The mind-control serum had been something new Stryker tried out shortly before he'd left. Between the effort to wipe his memories, and control his mind, it had taken him most of a decade and a half, and being dropped far enough to utterly break his body before his brain healed enough to let him think straight again. An irritated snort escaped him at the familiar scarring that most mutants who'd been subject to the serum possessed.

"Oh, dear." Hack stands beside Sabretooth, peering at the scar on the back of Lyman's neck. "I really wish he'd been lying," she murmurs to herself as she backs away, shrugging after a moment. "Why did you have all his research, if you weren't a willing participant?"

"It was a bloody life insurance policy, you stupid bitch," Methos says. "A way out, in case they got hold of me again."

He straightens his clothing, checking his sword automatically. "Now, if you children will excuse me? I'm busy."

"People like that never let go. And holding onto that sort of information only leads them back to you, sooner or later." Hack's smile comes back, soft and almost sweet, if one ignores the glitter of anticipation in her eyes. "Unless they're dead, and then you don't need an insurance policy."

Sabretooth snarls at being called a child, and he reaches out to grab Lyman by the arm again, before he has a chance to take even a step away. "You're not busy now." He's not about to let the man argue with him, hauling him down the street toward the edge of town. He leaves the bike where it is, knowing no one in town is stupid enough to try to steal his motorcycle - or anything on it. And he's not going to try to fit three people on the bike all the way back to the cabin. Or even just down the road enough to put them off the beaten path.

Hack's smile widens, and she jogs after Sabretooth, keeping up with his long strides, humming cheerily. "And, for the record, Mr. Lyman, I'm psychotic and an adrenaline junkie, not stupid."

"Yes, I bloody well am," Methos insists. He knows some tricks for dealing with larger opponents -- he'd never have bested Silas, otherwise -- but he's loath to try any of them until he's sure he can get away afterwards.

"You have no idea what you're dealing with, let alone who, and I am not interested in becoming part of your sordid little war."

He keeps track of the mutants, because not doing so is beyond foolish, and he's heard of Sabretooth.

"It's not a war." Sabretooth grinned, his fangs showing this time. "Just a massacre that pays really well." And he doesn't care who he's killing, so long as the money comes in, and he gets to have whatever fun he wants. That Hack's a bit pickier about the sort of people she wants most to take down, he knows she'll follow his lead on any job he takes her on.

Hack chuckles, a happy smile on her face. "I suppose, on their side, they call it a war. But for me, it's just fun. Watching Sabretooth kill. Ripping through security systems like a hot knife. Listening to the music of their screams. Not a war. Art. Poetry. Fun."

"Oh, for god's sake," Methos snaps, exasperated. "It's Caspian and bloody Kronos all over again."

"You don't frighten me, children," he says, as patronizingly as he can manage. "I was much, much worse, once upon a time." If he can convince them that he's not going to be fun prey, maybe they'll let him go. If not...well, he dealt with Kronos and Caspian, and he can deal with a pair of mortals, no matter what sort of powers they might have.

He hopes.

"Really?" Hack's expression brightens, and she flicks a hopeful glance at Sabretooth. She's not going to insist if he says he doesn't want to keep Lyman, but the idea of someone else who can keep up with them appeals to her. Someone else who can paint corridors red for her to watch on security feeds, who isn't squeamish about killing people simply because of some foolish notion that humans can be reasoned with. "When, how many people died?" She pauses, tilting her head. "And who are Kronos and Caspian?"

Sabretooth rolls his eyes, ignoring Hack's babble, and not letting Lyman go. He's not sure if he's keeping the man moving because he's prey, or because he's a liability, but he's not about to let the man out of his sight yet. He doesn't trust him.

"It was a long time ago," Methos tells her flatly. "Back when I was still killing people for fun and profit."

He didn't go to all the trouble of getting away from the Horsemen just to join up with their mortal equivalent a few years later.

"Kronos and Caspian were my brothers," he says, letting a hint of Death's smile cross his face. "I killed them, of course. I really don't like being controlled. As for my death-count?" He shrugs.

The ten thousand he'd quoted to MacLeod had been a ridiculously conservative number. "I have no idea," he admits. "Best estimate? A quarter of a million, on the low end." He twists impatiently out of Sabretooth's grasp, and pulls his gun at the same moment, aiming it at the girl. "Don't," he says flatly. "A bullet might not do much to you, but I'm fairly sure it would ruin her whole day."

Sabretooth snarls, baring sharp fangs at Lyman. He doesn't like someone threating what's his, and the dark grin on his face promises that if the trigger is pulled, the results will be quick, brutal, and fatal. "She's mine to kill, Lyman. Not yours."

Hack's smile slides off her face as easily and quickly as it had appeared earlier, her attention focusing on the gun. She knows there's nothing she can do to stop a gun, all mechanical parts and nothing for her mind to rip apart and render inert. Nothing to offer the man but something she knows he thinks she utterly destroyed. That she had wiped off his computer. "You kill me, and the back-up I made of your little database gets wiped, and so does the other one. Years of work, it looks like centuries, wiped out before that bullet can take me out."

She's already reaching out for the internet connection, following the link she'd established to the interesting database before. Sliding through their security like it's not even there, and planting the program with the finesse of the professional she's become. "A dead-man's switch, if I leave the system, the program activates, and destroys everything."

The database. Methos hides a wince, but barely. "What do you want from me?" he asks. "Try answering that, first. I'm not interested in your fight. I'm not a mutant."

"It's not just about mutants." Hack misses the wince, but she's not looking at him so much as at the gun. "It's not even mostly about mutants. They'll survive or not on their own. I don't like those who experiment on mutants, but their deaths aren't about the mutants they've hurt, or will hurt. It's about seeing them die. All I wanted was some entertainment, but you had information that made you look like one of them, those that need to be killed. And then you had something even more interesting. All those histories, all that information about something older than mutants."

The flinch hadn't gotten by Sabretooth, and he grins, giving every appearance of relaxing. The same sort of laziness of a cat content to play with the mouse it's found, rather than killing it immediately.

"Now?" Hack's voice is soft as she continues, finally looking up from the gun to meet Lyman's gaze. "Your silence, maybe your company for a while. Tell me what it was like, paint me the picture in words. I like to watch blood paint the walls of labs, wash the floors. To listen to Sabretooth's stories of old wars, how they died. I want to know, to hear the stories you could tell me."

Methos laughs. It's a sound with precious little humour in it.

Even Caspian might have liked this one.

"Look, I don't tell those sorts of stories," he says. "I don't talk about my brothers, not in detail." Except that the database is hanging on this decision. "And I really do have things to do, that don't include hanging about sharing the most bloody episodes of my past for your amusement." He lifts an eyebrow. "Besides, I'm sure your friend has plenty of bloody stories to go around. He's spent more of the past hundred-odd years than I have elbow-deep in blood. I sat out both of the World Wars in intelligence, after all." Sabretooth and that brother of his are both in the database, along with a few other mutants with extraordinarily long life spans. Methos thinks it's because the Watchers are hedging their bets.

"What, then? How do you leave that behind?" Hack raises an eyebrow, already prodding at the database to see if it has answers. "That power, that beauty, the thrill of knowing how easily you can destroy them. How can you watch humanity, with its fears and its hatred, and not want that again, not want to see their blood on your hands?"

"Because I'm very old, and very tired," Methos says, exasperated. "I spent a ridiculously long time steeped in blood. Eventually, even ultimate power palls."

He runs a hand through his hair. "All that hatred, all that fear; I got tired of contributing to it, that's all."

Hack watches him for a long moment, her head tilted slightly to one side. "Fine." She shrugs, flicking a glance at Sabretooth. "Argue your freedom with Sabretooth, then." She turns, leaning up on her toes to murmur to Sabretooth that she'll meet him back at the cabin, before starting down the road. Utterly ignoring the fact there's still a risk she could be shot.

This is more familiar ground, albeit no more welcome. Sabretooth is a more feral and less effective echo of Kronos, though Methos doubts that either of them would have appreciated the comparison.

"Well?" He lifts an eyebrow. "Are you planning on letting me walk away?"

Sabretooth knows Hack can keep track of the man, so long as he uses a computer, but he still doesn't like the idea of letting the man out of his sight. There's more to him than he let them get out of him, though there's a sense he could spend a lifetime trying to pry the man's secrets loose, and still not have them all, if any. "Not yet."

There aren't many people he'll trust to keep an eye on the man, and the one he knows he can trust, he doesn't want to trust. Though... Sabretooth smiles slowly, though he'll have to locate the number again to call. He nods in the direction Hack's already started walking. "Keep moving."

"No," Methos says mildly, "I don't think I will." His gun won't be much use against Sabretooth, but his sword might be more intmidating. He pulls it free of his coat in one smooth movement. "Now. Unless you're in the mood to see how long it will take to grow back a limb, I suggest you let me go."

An amused smile isn't the reaction most people give to seeing a sword pulled on them, and Sabretooth is certainly entertained. "Nice sword." He's not about to let it intimidate him, and he watches Lyman with a sharpened gaze. Not waiting for the other man to make the first move, moving forward with a predatory grace. Intent on putting the man down for the count, even if he couldn't really kill him.

Methos swings -- and realizes just how outclassed he is in strength and speed when Sabretooth grabs his arm and twists. He hears the sickening snap of breaking bone, feels the spreading numbness, and only manages to hold onto the pommel of his sword through sheer willpower alone. He slams it into Sabretooth's head, then raises his gun. He gets off one shot before he hears his neck snap, and the world goes away

Snorting at the ease of the kill, Sabretooth lets the body drop to the road, removing the sword and gun, tossing them out of reach before he bellows for Hack to come back over and get them. Checking Lyman methodically for other weapons, not wanting another painful graze or other wound if the man rouses. If he doesn't, then he'll dump the body, and keep whatever he finds.

Hack had already turned at the sound of a gunshot, and rolls her eyes at Sabretooth's bellow, sprinting back toward him and Lyman to do as she's been told. "Oo. Shiny!" She makes sure the gun's safety is on before tucking it into her belt, and hefting the sword. Carefully resting it on her shoulder, cradling the pommel in one hand to keep it balanced.

Heaving Lyman over his shoulder, Sabretooth makes sure Hack has all the weapons he's found on the man before they start walking again, the trip to the cabin taking longer than it would have if Lyman hadn't decided to try to threaten Sabretooth, and just walked. He's still dead when they walk up the long drive, though, and stays that way as Sabretooth gets the straps he usually uses to keep the motorcycle stable in its trailer when he ships it. They're strong enough he's not concerned about Lyman breaking free of them if he wakes up.

At that point, all he's planning to do is wait, and if Lyman isn't showing signs of life by nightfall, he'll leave him locked in the motorcycle's travel trailer until morning, and then find a place to dump the body.

The snap of his neck re-setting is worse than the first rush of air into formerly deflated lungs. Reviving bound hand and foot, and swordless, is even worse. Methos jerks at the straps, but they're professionally done. He looks up at Sabretooth, forcing his expression into an ironic smile.

"Congratulations. You caught me. Now what do you plan on doing with me?"

Sabretooth regards Lyman silently, a faint smile on his face. It's only been a bit over an hour since he'd snapped Lyman's neck, and that he's back that quickly says something about his ability to heal. Almost as fast as his own, which is impressive in itself. "Keep you where you are until someone comes to pick you up."

He shrugs, leaning back against the corner of the cabin. He doesn't know if his brother will come alone, though he knows he'll come himself. Logan isn't about to trust Sabretooth around any of the rest of the X-men, not without him there. At least, once he contacts him about taking Lyman off his hands.

"Until who comes to pick me up?" Methos demands, tensing all over. "Give me back to Stryker's people and I will figure out a way to kill you and keep you dead."

Sabretooth snorts. "I don't work for Stryker, or his people." Not after he'd first betrayed him, then used him when he caught Sabretooth again. He shifts, pushing away from the cabin a moment. "Don't go anywhere," he adds, smiling before he goes inside, digging out the satellite phone, growling an order at Hack to find him the phone number for Xavier's.

A phone call that isn't as brief as he likes, and at least Logan's on his way to Kilmary. Whether the runt decides to make it official X-men visit, and drag one or another of his annoying leather-clad teammates with him, or comes alone, it doesn't make a lot of difference to him. And he'll even make sure that damned sword Lyman carried goes with him, or he's sure he won't hear the end of Hack's all but cooing over it like most females would coo over a baby.

He steps back outside to check on Lyman, to make sure the annoying man hasn't wormed his way out of the straps he's used. Even if they can hold him, he knows there's no harm in keeping a close eye on him.

Methos is almost finished slicing through the strap on his wrists when Sabretooth comes back in, bleeding in half a dozen places because of the angle and because he really doesn't care if he slices himself up, so long as he can get free. He slows his attempt when the man comes in, knowing that his sweater should hide most small movements of his arms and shoulders. Fortunately, his body blocks the other man's view of his hands.

"Who in the hell are you turning me over to?" he demands, in the voice he'd used for commanding whole armies. He keeps cutting, slowly and carefully. He can throw a knife just as accurately as he can fire a gun, and it should keep Sabretooth down longer. If he can just get his hands free...

"Someone I can trust." Sabretooth comes over, smelling the tang of blood in the air, reaching down to turn Lyman, growling at the damage to the straps he's used. Apparently he hadn't searched the man as completely as he should have.

He picks Lyman up by the arm he's holding, slamming him against the wall hard enough to knock his breath out of him before dropping him to the ground. A vicious swipe of one hand, claws extended, rips through sweater, flesh, and bone, tearing out a chunk of his chest in the rough vicinity of his spleen. He's sure now that Lyman can heal from that, but it should take long enough for him to strip him of anything that could be a weapon, and retie him.

Methos curses, but his hands are already free. It's not that he's taught himself to ignore pain, exactly; rather, having never been mortal, pain has never meant anything but danger and annoyance, an outdated warning system that doesn't apply to him. Besides, he's healing even as he moves. 

The knife goes easily into the side of Sabretooth's chest, missing his heart by all of a centimeter, if that. It catches on the way out. Methos slips its match from the other sheath on his wrist and sinks that into the mutant's other side, before releasing it and grabbing for the last one he can easily reach, hidden away at the small of his back. By the time he brings it around, the worst of the damage is already gone, the rest of it fading. It's one of the benefits -- and one of the dangers -- of his age. In a Challenge, it's beyond helpful; however, when one cannot rely on staying dead even for five minutes, it can be disastrous.

The snarl becomes a roar of rage, Sabretooth's own wounds healing quickly. Lyman's healing faster than he expects, and that could easily put a crimp in his plans to hold Lyman until Logan arrives. He punches, open handed, claws digging into flesh, ribs cracking under the impact. Reaching for Lyman's heart, ripping out a chunk of it, he doesn't stop until he's taken apart a large portion of Lyman's torso, leaving bits of flesh spattered all over the inside of the trailer. He'll have to replace it before he takes another long trip with his motorcycle, but it's satisfying nonetheless.

Methos wakes up furious and aching and closer to losing control than he's been since he left the Horsemen. That he's still bound hand and foot does nothing to improve his temper. All of his knives are gone, every last one of them. No matter. He's gotten out of closer bonds than this without weaponry in the past. It will hurt, but he doesn't give a damn.

He gives vent to his feelings with a string of curses -- and threats -- in Russian, because it's an excellent language for threatening and obscenities. He's careful not to raise his voice, however. The trailer is empty, save for himself and the motorcycle, but who knows how well that bastard Sabretooth can hear? If he does decide to deal with the bastard on a permanent basis, he will bring a fucking grenade launcher. 

Easy, easy, he reminds himself, and starts working on dislocating the necessary joints. It's tricky, and has only gotten worse as he gets older; the dislocations heal so rapidly that he often can't take proper advantage of them. Still, he feels the first pop with a distinct feeling of satisfaction.

Logan's glad that he's at least gotten Storm to fly him close to the town Sabretooth had given him as his location. The phone call from the other feral had been a surprise, and he hadn't been sure that he even had Lyman. Until he'd seen the body bound on the bottom of a blood and gore spattered trailer. He's only just stepped outside when he hears the quiet cursing, and doesn't give Sabretooth a chance to sneer at him before he holds up a hand. "He's awake."

Methos has managed to get one hand free, and is working painfully on the straps binding him at the elbows when Sabretooth steps back into the shed. Methos goes still instantly, letting the cold, furious glitter of his eyes speak for him. Unfortunately, the silence is broken by the pop of his elbow sliding back into place. Worse than that, even, is the fact that he recognizes the man standing behind Sabretooth. He's also pretty sure that the man recognizes him. Bound like this, fury takes a backseat to survival.

"Logan," he manages. "In case this -- " He can't think of a foul enough word in modern English, and gives up. "In case he hasn't seen fit to inform you, I wasn't exactly a willing participant the last time our paths crossed." Yes, he'd gone looking for Stryker, but only because strategic adamantium reinforcements could have made the Game a non-concern, not because he'd intended to get roped into an anti-mutant crusade while subject to the most pernicious mind-control drug he'd encountered in his five thousand years. "In fact, if we're basing this encounter off of our last, you bloody well owe me, my freedom if nothing else."

Snorting, Logan crosses his arms, watching Lyman. "He didn't say much at all." It had taken a little more effort than he'd liked to get the information that had convinced him to come out of Sabretooth. He hadn't tried to push for more. "Hack had a little more to add." He's not sure how much of her cheery story to believe, either, though she at least had told him about the scar on the back of Lyman's neck.

Sabretooth rolls his eyes, leaning against the wall of the trailer, letting his brother talk to Lyman. So long as he doesn't offer the man his freedom, he's not going to argue with how Logan decides to take care of him.

"I'm sure she did," Methos says flatly. "Are you going to let me go?" The alternatives are seriously unappetizing; still, he'd rather stay here with a pair of psychotics than go anywhere near a mind-reader of Professor Xavier's caliber.

"No." Logan knows Hack will tell his brother - and that still bothers him, that he has a brother he can't remember, save as an enemy - about how to kill Lyman if he doesn't get the man out of here. An impossible task if he shows any willingness to let the man go, even if he had any. He did, though, plan to drive back to New York, and had told Storm as much. It meant that she should be waiting for him, and he could always write off Lyman as escaping if he wanted to. No matter which way things went on the drive.

He shifts, shrugging. "Too many questions if you go missing now." He gives Lyman a tight smile, knowing that won't be welcome news to Stryker's ex-lackey.

"Questions?" For the first time in a thousand years, Methos wishes that he was still riding with his brothers. Kronos would already have been planning a way to get him out, and it would almost certainly have worked. "From whom?" He shifts, trying to get a bit more comfortable. "I was never a member of Stryker's group -- not willingly, any way." It's only partially a lie. "I'm not a mutant, and you bloody well owe me, as I believe I've pointed out before."

"Storm. The Professor." Logan shrugs again, unconcerned with the hint that some of what Lyman said is a lie. "Said I was bringing someone back with me." He hadn't actually said who, or why he was willing to travel out to where Sabretooth was just for the chance of getting some unknown away from his brother. Part of the reason had been to make sure Hack was still alive and in one piece. The rest had been because Lyman was the only person left of Stryker's people who could tell him what happened to him.

"Oh, no," Methos says flatly. "I'm not going anywhere near Xavier." He means it, too. He may be (mostly) innocent so far as Stryker is concerned, but there are still things in his head that would appall almost everyone, and would horrify the professor.

He doesn't want to be exposed as Death in the middle of a group of mutants.

"You're not staying here." Sabretooth's voice is a rumble of annoyance, and he pushes away from the wall, looming over Lyman with a dark frown on his face. "And you're not leaving on your own."

Logan uncrosses his arms, tensing when Sabretooth moves. Concern about Lyman overriding his dislike of the man, with the thorough binding that Sabretooth's used on him. Leaving him vulnerable if Sabretooth decides to take out frustration on him. Again, from the state of the inside of the trailer.

Hack's voice from outside broke the tension, the cheerful tone something Logan had never heard for the brief few months she'd been at Xavier's. "That's everything but the body loaded, Logan! You can grab Lyman and get out of here now."

"My sword?" Methos asks. "And my other weapons? Five knives and two pistols, to be precise -- as well as my laptop?" He'll have a better chance of getting away from Logan on the road than he will of escaping from Sabretooth. Logan won't be the first captor he's evaded, not by a long shot.

Peering around the door of the trailer, Hack grins at Methos. "It's a pity about the sword, I'd have liked to keep it." She pouted a moment before shrugging, the smile reappearing as quickly as it had vanished. "Sabretooth told me I couldn't, though, so, yes, it's there with the rest of it. Including the laptop, though what you want with that useless case, I've not the foggiest."

Logan doesn't like Lyman's sudden willingness to go with him, but he's not about to change his plans. He can ask his questions in the car, and there are ways to keep someone from getting away. Even if he doesn't really want to use them, for the most part. Better that than have Lyman loose somewhere between here and the Institute.

"In that case," Methos' smile is poisonous, "my thanks for your...hospitality." His gaze takes in the blood-spattered shed, and his own uncomfortable bindings. "With any luck, I'll never see either of you again." He doesn't mention that if he does, he'll almost certainly try to kill them. He'd been off-guard and underprepared this time; next time, he wouldn't be. He looks up at Logan. "Cut me loose, then." He's not in the mood to be bundled about like a sack of laundry.

Logan waits for Sabretooth to back down before crouching beside Lyman, using one claw to slice through the bindings. Trying not to nick him as he did so, though it's inevitable that he leaves some cuts, that healed almost as quickly as they appeared. Certainly as quickly as his own wounds did. He offers a hand as he stands, to help Lyman up after laying there for however long it had been. Possibly as long as since the phone call the day before.

Methos considers ignoring the proffered hand, but takes it in the end, mostly in the interest of hiding what he's capable of pushing himself through. He's as stiff as a board -- but he's had worse, has been held longer and in more uncomfortable positions. He resists the urge to issue a parting threat; instead, he climbs into the car without so much as glancing in the direction of either of his former captors.

Hack waves cheerfully after them as Logan gets in the driver's seat, and pulls onto the long drive. Relaxing only once they're long out of sight, and sagging against the trailer. "We need to move again, don't we?"

Sabretooth's only response is a shrug, and she sighs, heading back to the cabin to pack.

Logan's quiet until they're on the road, headed east, before he asks, "How much do you know about Stryker's work? How far back?"

"I've got files on all of it," Methos admits. "From the beginning." He stretches in the seat, luxuriating in the sensation of not being tied up any longer. "I started hearing rumours about thirty years ago, but I was busy with my own affairs at the time." He and Byron had been frequenting the rock scene, taking way too many drugs and indulging themselves excessively. "I didn't actually go looking for confirmation until about five years ago." His shiver isn't entirely involuntary. "Stryker thought I was a mutant, and decided that he could use me. That serum of his worked, but not as well as it would on a normal person -- and I'm including mutants in that category. I had enough lucidity left to collect files, to leave gaps in the plans he had me draw up."

Long after he would have left, but that didn't surprise Logan much. Lyman's the sort of person he'd have seen in his nightmares, if he had been in the program back when Stryker had done whatever it was he'd done to Logan. Besides putting the adamantium in.

"Anything that can tell me some of who I was?" He's not entirely hopeful about that, but he needs to know. Wants to know whatever Lyman can tell him, even if it isn't much.

Methos glances over at him, eyes shuttered. It had been Logan's files that, in the end, had convinced him that his own intention of getting his neck reinforced with adamantium was a bad one. Wolverine run wild was bad enough; Methos with his control stripped would have been a living nightmare. Still, it's a tricky question to answer, and not an issue he's sure he wants to get into at the moment. 

"If I still had the files," he offers instead, "I'd let you look through them. Hack put paid to that, though." He doesn't want to know -- but he needs to find out -- whether or not she got into the Watchers' database, and if so, what sort of damage she's done. "I have copies, but I'm not exactly trying to attract the attention that I might get if I tried to retrieve them."

Logan glances over, taking in Lyman's expression, not entirely surprised there isn't a way for him to get the information he wants. There's no sense that Lyman's lying, in either expression or scent, so he's willing to take him at his word for now. Though, if he can get Lyman to tell him where to look, he might have a chance at finding what he wants to know. Maybe. If he can get someone to help him retrieve it - a task he's certainly not going to ask Hack to help him with.

"How'd you attract their attention?" he asks, instead of asking more questions that might get something about who he was out of Lyman. It's a matter that can wait until later, after waiting fifteen years.

Methos makes a face. He'll have to dance carefully around this part. "Stryker saw me heal," he says shortly. "I had some autonomy under that damned serum, but not enough. After a fairly extended question and answer session, he decided that he wanted to keep me where he could see me." He can still hear Stryker's voice in his ears, cold and curious, like a scalpel, peeling away the layers between Lyman and Methos himself. He'd managed to keep his Immortality from the man, largely because Stryker hadn't had any idea that Immortals existed -- but his age, his abilities, all of it, had been laid bare beneath that icy gaze, and he hadn't been able to resist, lest Stryker realize that the serum wasn't as effective as he'd believed it to be. After that, the man had taken an almost perverse pleasure in taking Methos and his presence for granted. It had been that, and that alone, that had given Methos the slim opportunity for escape that he'd engineered into the incident at Alkalai Lake.

That information isn't what Logan's looking for, but he's not going to pass up anything Lyman will tell him. And that Stryker had decided to keep Lyman close after that isn't much of a surprise, though he thinks it should be. Stryker had shown any hesitation, after all, of sending out mutants under the serum to do what he wanted done, or letting them out of his sight. There's something niggling at the back of his mind that's as difficult to grasp as smoke, a sense that Stryker liked to keep tabs on anyone he'd ever used.

"What about Hack and Sabretooth? How'd you catch their attention?" It's not impossible, but it's not always easy, he suspects, even in the town that he'd been told to go to. Particularly since he doubts either one of them actually would recognize Lyman as one of Stryker's men on sight, the way he does.

"I had the Stryker file on my laptop," Methos scowls. "I assume that she got into it, and the two of them decided I needed...handling." He shakes his head. "I was careless, and I paid the price for it." Absently, his hand comes up to massage his chest. It's been centuries since he's taken that much damage. "They're...quite the pair."

Logan grunts, a dark expression crossing his face a moment. That's certainly one way to put it. That Hack is still alive is a bit of a surprise, and that they haven't done more damage together is just as much of one. Though if Sabretooth will realize just how much more damage Hack could let him do before he gets tired of her, he's not certain. Or what will happen if she decides she's bored with him first.

"She's happier than she was at the Institute," is all he offers, though he's not really happy with it himself. Her leaving hadn't been a surprise, but that she ultimately ran into and taken up with Sabretooth has been a worry for anyone aware of the extent of her powers. If she makes up her mind to, she could unleash him on any facility which uses computers in its security.

"I'm sure she is," Methos says darkly. "I had a --" a friend, a brother, a lover "some acquaintances who were never happy unless they were knee deep in blood. The dynamic between them is not unfamiliar." Is as familiar as breathing, actually, even after two thousand years.

Logan notices the hesitation and substitution - for what, he doesn't know - and gives Lyman a sardonic smile at the description of what kept those acquaintances of his happy. It's not an inaccurate description of Sabretooth, certainly, and he's worried that it'll become a far too accurate description of Hack, if she stays where she is.

"She's never killed anyone." Directly, that he's aware of. He knows it's not any better if she's opened someplace up to let Sabretooth in - something he doesn't know if she's done or not - but at least he's never had to lie outright to her sister when she comes to the Institute to check on the kids whose cases she oversees. He hasn't even told Anabelle who her sister is with, only that she's still alive, and now he can tell her that he's seen her, and that Hack is happy where she is.

"Give it time," Methos mutters. "She's not likely to live long enough to outgrow this psychotic phase, and it'll take more and more to feed whatever cravings are driving her, and the two of them will feed off one another. I've seen it before." Time for a judicious confession, in case they actually do end up at Xavier's. Springing Death on someone never goes well. "I've been there myself."

A frown crosses Logan's face, and he looks over at Lyman. "The acquaintances of yours?" He's intelligent enough to put those puzzle pieces together, though he knows he doesn't have nearly the full picture. This is one reason, he suspects, that Sabretooth didn't want to just drop Lyman's body off in someone's back yard, or something equally messy.

"More like brothers," Methos admits, "in everything but blood." He laughs shortly. "Well. Our own blood, anyway. There was plenty of other people's." He looks out the window, watching the scenery rush by. "I got lucky," he murmurs, half to himself. "I had the time and the tempermant to grow out of it. The others never did."

There's really no response for that, and Logan's not particularly one to condemn. Even without his memories, he doubts his own past is clean, not with the claws that are his best weapon, or his relation to Sabretooth. Even if he's not sure he can believe half the stories he gets second-hand, in emails sent to one or another of the girls at the institute. The first of which had nearly sent Kitty into hysterics. He's just glad Hack hasn't changed email addresses with each one.

Silence reigns for a long moment before Logan speaks again. "The rest of them are dead?" Just a question to confirm what he suspected from Lyman's use of the past tense in reference to his brothers.

"Yes," Methos says, closing his eyes. "I killed one of them, and arranged for the other two to die." It drags at his conscience, heavier even than the countless thousands the four of them had slaughtered together. Kronos had expected betrayal of some sort from him, but not that, not death at someone else's hands. "We were together for a very long time."

He smiles. "Sabretooth reminds me very much of one of them."

He knows he could have stayed, could have used Sabretooth as he'd used Kronos, once upon a time -- except that he was tired, hadn't wanted to reawaken that part of himself any more than he already had.

Four of them, and that makes Logan frown a moment. It's impossible to completely miss the references humanity has to four beings that cut a swath across the human population. Though he's always thought of it as nothing more than a popular piece of mythology, and ignored it as not particularly important. "Four Horsemen?"

Methos can feel the blood drain from his face. For a long moment, he considers denying it, and if they weren't headed straight towards the most powerful psychic in the United States, he would do just that. It's like being punched in the gut, and when he does speak, his voice is hoarse. "Are you sure you're not psychic?"

"I can't get into your head." Logan shrugs, keeping his gaze focused on the road. "I thought the Horsemen were just some sort of myth or something." Myth, and part of the fascination with apocalyptic fiction that some people had, including some of the students at the Institute.

"We are now," Methos says. "But most myth has a grain of truth in it. We weren't the biblical figures from the Book of Revelations -- none of us were servants of God, and Christ hadn't even been born when we split up -- but we were real enough."

"War, Famine, Plague, and Death?" Logan doesn't really think they'd have taken up those names, but they were the names most people gave to them, at least as far as he knows. He supposes he could have looked up more, but without knowing they were real, he's never had a reason to. There's other matters he's more worried about, anyway, like teaching the kids how to protect themselves.

"We were fairly pretentious in those days." Methos looks out the window again. "It was a failing of the time period. All sorts of people running around calling themselves all sorts of ridiculous things. We just lived up to it a bit better than most."

"Which were you?" It's something Logan wants to know before they get anywhere near the Institute, no matter how much Lyman says he's no longer one of those near-mythical people. So Logan knows what to expect if someone at the Institute finds out, before someone panics, and does something dangerous.

"Death," Methos admits. He sighs. "I was already old when I took up with the others, and very angry. I'd seen everything I ever knew fall apart over and over again, and I was incredibly tired of caring about mortals and mortal things." He glances over at Logan. "It was a different world."

"It's not going to make a difference to some people, if they find out." Logan's more inclined to relax around the man, with the knowledge that Lyman has been to the sort of depths Sabretooth has, and come back from that. So long as he doesn't show signs of going back to being the man he was then - or to the sort of soldier he was under Stryker, no matter how unwilling it was at the time - he's not going to worry about it.

It's not enough, though, for some people, most of them the younger generation of mutants at the Institute. He has a niggling suspicion that Xavier, at least, is more likely to take Logan's view of it, to a certain extent. But he's not nearly as certain of the rest of the staff, or students.

"That's one of the reasons I intend on staying far away from Xavier," Methos admits. Death isn't the only skeleton in his closet, not by a long shot. "The Horsemen aren't for public consumption. Besides, it might not be safe for Xavier in my head. I'm not exactly human." Five thousand years of memory have come close to drowning him a time or two, and he lived through them.

Logan is quiet a moment before he shrugs. "Don't think the Professor will have a problem with you being someone else before." And he'll do what he can to keep Xavier from risking himself by going diving into Lyman's mind, if he has to. He hopes the telepath'll take Lyman at his word, though, as it'll make things easier.

"He's not the one I'm concerned about," Methos admits. "It's everyone else he might think deserves to know the information." He runs a hand through his hair. "You could just let me out at the next town, and save a lot of hassle. Some of the students are bound to recognize me, you know."

"I already told the Professor I was bringing someone back." Logan shook his head. "He'll ask if I'm alone." He's not about to mention what Hack talked about the entire way to the cabin from Kilmary, about a database of information that Lyman was protective of. Blackmail isn't something he wants to resort to.

"So tell him Sabretooth killed me," Methos suggests. "It's the literal truth." He rubs at his forehead. Immortals don't get headaches, but he thinks he just might be getting one. "Look, I have some serious business to attend to; I don't have time to be kidnapped right now."

Logan's quiet for a long moment, the road unwinding ahead of him as he thought. That anyone at the Institute who recognized Lyman is likely to be more comfortable without the man in their midst is a given, but he can't just let the man walk away. There are too many unanswered questions, and there's too much a risk that Hack or Sabretooth will come visiting if they find out he'd done so. A risk to the kids he's not willing to take.

"I can't just let you walk away." His voice is quiet, and he looks over at Lyman a moment. "But I don't have to go straight back to the Institute." Not with the school year almost over, and most of the students leaving over the summer. So long as he lets Xavier know, and makes sure there's a way to keep Hack and Sabretooth from following, just because he hasn't gone back yet.

"Why can't you let me go?" Methos demands, frustrated. "I'm not going anywhere near anyone like Stryker again; I'm not a risk to you or anyone else unless I'm threatened, and I'm not interested in being part of the crusade for mutants' rights." He smirks. "I was there for the original Crusades, and I've had better decades. Also, I have some damage control to do. That psychotic bitch got into my laptop, and there are some things I need to do as a result of that."

"The Professor says Hack's powerful enough to get into any computer system on the planet." Logan glances at Lyman again. "And she's stubborn about getting what she wants." Anabelle had told them everything she could about her sister after Hack left, though she'd done it in hopes of finding a way to bring her sister home. "She said she wanted someone to keep an eye on you, so you didn't do anything with the information she downloaded from your laptop."

"Oh, for god's sake," Methos snaps, "it's a safety precaution, in case Stryker's people try to pick me up again." He freezes. "Wait. That was the information she meant, yes?" His blood is ice-cold in his veins. If she can get into the database, if he gave her the back door, he might well have to do something permanent about her.

"That's why she wanted someone to keep an eye on you." Logan picks up on the tension in Lyman easily, and he thinks he knows what it's about. "It wasn't the only database she talked about."

Methos' hands clench into fists so tightly that his knuckles blanch. "It wasn't?" he asks quietly, and if there's an echo of Death in his voice, at least he's the only one alive who can recognize it. "In that case, you need to drop me off immediately."

"So you can do what?" Logan doesn't stop the car, his hands tightening a moment on the wheel before he reminds himself to relax. No matter how much he doesn't like the life she's chosen, or who she's taken up with, he's still unwilling to put Hack's life at risk if he can avoid it. Perhaps more for the sake of the sisters he knows she has than for herself, but it's there nonetheless.

"So I can warn people!" Methos turns on him, eyes blazing. "There are friends of mine in that database, damn you, and even my enemies deserve better than to have that pair of psychotics unleashed on them!"

Logan hadn't even thought about that, perhaps because he still subconsciously didn't expect that sort of protectiveness from Lyman. He's not going to argue against it, though, and can agree with that. He doesn't stop driving, though he does dig out the cell phone he dropped into the center console when he'd picked up the rental car. Tossing it to Lyman, he says, "If they don't answer, tell me where to drive."

Methos stares at him for a moment, then opens the phone and dials. To his intense relief, Joe answers almost immediately.

"Joe's."

"Joe, it's me." 

"Adam?" Joe sounds incredulous. "Where are you, old man?"

"Never mind that, Joseph," Methos says. This is going to be a seriously unpleasant confession to make. "The database has been compromised."

"Press or police?" 

"Worse," Methos admits. "Mutants. Two of them, psychotic enough to make me nostalgic for the bad old days."

"Which ones?" Joe's voice is grim. "And how did they get in?"

"My fault," Methos admits. "No time to go into details. Shut the database down, Joe. Get it off the web -- and get out of town. Take Mac with you."

"How the fuck have you lasted five thousand years?" 

"Joe! Get moving now, lecture me later. They're not that far from Seacouver. Call me back when you're both safe." He hangs up, and leans his head back against the seat, closing his eyes. One phone call down. Next it'll have to be Watcher HQ in Paris, but he needs a moment to remember how to be Adam Pierson first.

Logan makes a mental note of the town Lyman mentioned, wondering who Joe and Mac are, other than friends of Lyman's. He notices that he keeps hold of the phone, wondering who else he'll call, and just how much of what Hack had babbled about earlier is true. Other than people with very long lifespans that might or might not be mutants. Since he doubts very much Lyman was the only one of his kind.

Methos pulls Adam Pierson over him like the shield that identity had been, once, then glances over at Logan. "Will this thing work on international calls?"

"It should." Since the X-Men didn't operate just in the US, and the phone had been given to him by Xavier as a way to keep in contact if they - or he - had to go out of the country.

Methos nods, settles Adam firmly in place, and dials. The secretary is obstructive, but Methos manages to charm his way through to the tech support guys without breaking character, or giving in to the urge to frighten her half to death. When he introduces himself to the man who picks up in Tech, the idiot actually yelps.

"Adam *Pierson*? How did you get this number?"

"Er. Kind of a long story, actually," Methos says, Adam at his most harmless. "Look," Joe is going to have his head for this, but it can't be helped. "Joe Dawson asked me to call. Someone's hacked the database -- someone not me," Adam says sheepishly. He can only wonder what Logan thinks of this whole performance. "Anyway, he told me to tell you to get it off-line. Shut it down completely."

"We can't do that!" The man sounds scandalized. "How will the field guys do their jobs?"

"There were Watchers long before the database existed." Methos has to struggle to hold on to Adam, but manages it by the skin of his teeth.

"Call Joe. Get confirmation -- but *shut it down*." He hangs up, then takes a deep breath before turning to Logan, letting Adam slide back into memory where he belongs.

"It's a start," he says shortly.

Logan nods. "The Professor might be able to tell you more about the extent of her powers." He's not insisting Lyman come back to the Institute, but it can't hurt to try persuading him to do so. And if not, it's not going to be a problem for him to travel for a while.

"Then we'll go there. Now." He glances over at Logan. "You can't get through airport security -- so let's see how fast you can drive."

A bit of a grin crosses Logan's face, and he lets himself push the car to its limits, though he knows that even if they only stop to refuel, it's likely to take them much of twenty-four hours to cross the country. He could, of course, call for a pick-up in the jet, but he's enjoying the chance to drive fast.

Scott and Ororo are waiting as the car pulls up to the garage, already alerted by Xavier, and by the numerous reports from local law enforcement between Washington and New York. That Logan had managed to keep ahead of them, even when he took the time to stop to refuel, was a bit impressive, in a rented car. Though they were going to have to shell out quite a bit in speeding tickets.

It's not the breaking of traffic laws that bothers Scott the most though. It's bringing Stryker's right-hand man back to the mansion, after the man had helped to cause the disaster that had cost Jean her life.

"Logan!" He's aware that his voice is nearly a shout, anger clearly audible. It's probably best that he's not the only one waiting for the feral and his to get out of the car, as he'd like to blast Lyman at the moment. Even without company, he doubts he'd do so unless the man actively provoked him, but the temptation is there, nonetheless.

The response from Logan at the impending lecture isn't meant to be anything less than irritating, either, he suspects, glowering at the other mutant's amused expression.

"Scott." Ororo gives him a quelling look, though it's not nearly as effective as Jean's would have been. She looks over at the two who have gotten out of the car with a stern expression. "Was the speeding really necessary?"

"Yes," Methos says shortly, getting out of the car in time to overhear Ororo's last remark. He nods briefly at the welcoming committee, but he's in no mood for pleasantries. He's spent most of their journey on the phone with an ever-increasing number of people who are seriously unhappy with him -- not only Joe and MacLeod, but a number of old friends and acquaintances, some of whom had thought him dead. The only one who'd had anything sensible to say was Matthew of Salisbury, who'd put out an APB on Hack and Sabretooth, and promised to pass the warning along. "We've a slight emergency on our hands."

"You could have called for Ororo to pick you up in the jet." Scott isn't at all appeased. "Or you could have asked her to wait for you in the first place."

Logan shrugs, tossing the keys at Scott as he heads for the entrance to the mansion. "The emergency didn't really come up until after we were on the road. And Lyman needed to use the phone more than I did." After all, it isn't exactly the X-Men who were in the most danger from Hack's unauthorized exploration of a database.

Scott clenches his jaw, refraining from the urge to lecture Logan on his actions. It's not going to change the man, and it's only going to frustrate him more. Instead, he pockets the keys to the rental, to return it later, and follows Lyman and Logan toward the mansion, keeping close attention on Lyman. He doesn't know why Logan appears to trust the man, despite his history, and he's not going to let his guard down until he's gone from the mansion.

Methos turns around, and nearly bumps into Summers, who seems to be trying to step on the backs of his feet.

"Do you mind?" he snaps, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. He's seen the Expression of Righteous Mistrust on MacLeod's face more than enough to recognize it when it appears on Summers'. No one is going to make any progress until this is at least partially sorted out, and with a man like Summers, Methos knows exactly which buttons to push. He hasn't the patience for Adam's 'trust me' act at the moment, and once again, he finds himself in the odd position of being grateful that Stryker's little serum had left a scar. "For god's sake," he sighs. "I wasn't with Stryker willingly, all right? Look." He turns around again, and lifts the hair at the back of his neck with one hand, exposing the round scar there. "Nor would I be here now if it weren't vital to contain a pair of mutant psychopaths. Can we stop the macho posturing now, or do I need to knock you on your arse a few times first?"

The scar is familiar to Scott, matching one on the back of his own neck. It doesn't make him relax, not really, but that's more because he still has the entire population of the Institute to worry about. And no matter how coerced Lyman is, the man is still dangerous, if perhaps not because he was with Stryker.

"I still don't trust you." He waits for Lyman to keep moving, wanting to be able to get this dealt with as quickly as possible. It's true that Sabretooth - who he assumes is one of the mutant psychopaths Lyman's referring to - is a more known danger than Lyman, and one who needs dealt with more immediately. It doesn't make Lyman less dangerous.

"You don't have to trust me," Methos says flatly. "Just don't get in my way. It's not healthy." He turns around and stalks after the other two.

Bringing up the rear of the little procession, Scott is glad they don't encounter any of the students between the front door and the Professor's office, shutting the door behind him. He doesn't move to take a seat, though, preferring to stay on his feet for now. More comfortable, and more confident.

Logan stays on his feet as well, if more because he's been sitting in a car seat for most of twenty-four hours, and doesn't want to sit down again unless he has to. Leaning against the wall near the window, he's amused by Scott's clear distrust of Lyman - and likely, a certain level of distrust in him, as well. Particularly since he's shown a trust in Lyman Scott can't understand.

Coming out from behind his desk, Xavier gives Lyman a small, polite smile as he waves a hand to a chair. "You're welcome to sit down, Mr. Lyman, if you'd prefer." He's not actively trying to read the man yet, not more than the surface thoughts that he doesn't attempt to block out, not from people in the mansion. Enough for him to read the concern for what Hack and Sabretooth could accomplish with their access to a database... the name of which slides away before he can catch it, and he doesn't try to follow it right now.

Methos starts to decline the offer, then thinks better of it. He's as dangerous seated as he is standing, and maybe it will make Summers stop glaring at him like that. One of the only good things about the current situation is that the Highlander is not around. Methos is not exactly happy to find out that he's now saddled with a mortal version of the man that can literally set things on fire with his eyes. He sprawls out comfortably in the offered seat, Immortality repairing cramped and stiff muscles even as he does so.

"You can stop calling me Lyman," he says. "It's not my name, and the associated memories are less than pleasant." The revenge he'd eventually taken is another story.

Xavier's smile doesn't falter, and he nods his head slightly. "What would you prefer to be called, then?" He can pick up the name Logan had heard faintly over the phone from the feral mutant's mind, but he's not going to use that, either, unless the man sprawled in the chair gives him that.

"Adam will do," Methos says politely, not bothering to suppress the little curl of amusement he always feels when giving that name. MacLeod had been right; it had been a joke -- but it had been a joke long before his latest foray into the Watchers. He sits up, leaning slightly forward. "I need to know where Sabretooth and Hack are."

The frown on Scott's face deepens, though he personally agrees that the two mutants Adam's mentioned are dangerous enough to warrant keeping tabs on. There are other mutants who have been more important for the X-men to track, over the last year and a half, and he's tempted to say as much. Except for Xavier's voice in his head telling him to hold his peace for now.

"I'm afraid I haven't kept very close track of Miss Anderson or Mr. Creed." Xavier gives Adam an apologetic smile, before continuing, "Nor can I offer as quick a method of tracking them as I might before Stryker's dismantling of Cerebro, and the loss of certain vital components in the destruction of the Alkali Lake facility."

He does, however, have extensive files on the abilities of both mutants, and sightings of Sabretooth, information which can be collected without requiring the use of a machine to boost his telepathy. Files which he's made sure are on his desk once he had an idea how long it would take Logan to arrive with Adam.

"Sorry about that," Methos apologizes, and means it. He disapproves of Cerebro in general, but its existence would certainly come in handy at the moment. "I didn't exactly mean for that bit to happen." A lot of what had happened at Alkalai Lake had been things he hadn't meant to happen. Including that he'd ended up trapped at the bottom of the lake when the whole thing went up. Still, he was alive and free, so he found it difficult to be too remorseful about the whole thing.

"I told him you'd have more information on Hack's powers, Professor." Logan doesn't even straighten from his slouch against the wall, his eyes flicking to the files on the edge of the desk. The one on top which has Hack's given name written in neat letters on the tab, as well as the name she's taken since she left the Institute.

Xavier meets Logan's gaze easily, before nodding, bringing the files over. "It would also be useful for the three of you to refresh your memories of the contents of these files." To be aware of the abilities and dangers of the two mutants, once they found them to confront them.

Methos clears his throat. "If you can give me her name, and any aliases they might be using, I have certain resources available to me." Well, available to Joe, but in this situation, Methos was considering them his. Not that he'd ever mention that to Joe, of course. Dawson had been asking some pretty pointed questions about the origins of the Watchers as it was. "If you'll let me look at the files, it will likely go even faster," he adds. "I've an eye for...creative financing. If we can figure out where they keep their money..." He spreads his hands.

Xavier handed him the file on Hack first, though he's reluctant, in some ways, to turn over his former student to someone who has shown potential to be as ruthless and distant as he recalls Lyman being. "Mr. Creed appears to keep his wealth more in properties which he owns in several places across the country. Miss Anderson doesn't have any resources that are actually hers, though she has shown a willingness to tap into the funds of other individuals to meet her own desires."

It is a habit he had hoped to discourage, and had found grew more intractable the more he tried to encourage her to develop more responsible methods of dealing with money and the world. A stubborness that was a trait she shared with her older sister, and he suspected with the youngest sister, who had only just arrived at his school in the fall.

Methos nods, and pulls Logan's phone out of his pocket again. Unfortunately, it's not Joe who answers the phone.

"Methos," the Highlander's voice growls.

"MacLeod," Methos replies. "Look, I really don't have time for this right now. Put Joe on."

"Not until I get an explanation, Methos. All I can get from either you or Joe is that someone's gotten into the database and that the Watchers are dealing with it. And by 'Watchers', I suppose Joe means you as well. Did you re-join them, then?"

"No," Methos snaps, "but I have resources they don't, and vice-versa."

"That's not an explanation," MacLeod says.

"As I recall, Highlander, you're not exactly fond of my explanations."

"Then maybe you should stop doing things that require explaining!"

"Fine!" MacLeod has a more detrimental effect on Methos' temper than anyone still living. "The database has been compromised by a pair of mutants that rival Caspian and Kronos at their most psychotic, though I doubt they've gone as far as cannibalism and apocalypse yet. I've taken steps, but they can find you, they can find all of your friends, and they can find the Watchers as well!"

"Friends of yours?" Mac's voice is sharp enough to cut.

"For fuck's sake, you Scottish barbarian, not every murdering psychopath in the world is a friend of mine! Now put Joe on, or I swear by every god I've ever heard of that I will shoot you and drop you down that well I put Kronos in, and I will *leave you there*!"

There is a deafening silence. Then Mac, voice sulky, says, "Joe's not here."

"Of course not," Methos says, and adds an insult in Gaelic that he's sure will leave MacLeod open-mouthed and sputtering. "Have him call me when he gets in. I mean it, Highlander." He hangs up without waiting for an answer, then winces at the expression on Summers' face.

Logan raises an eyebrow at the name he hears over the phone, though he doesn't share it aloud. He knows Xavier can pick it out of his mind, but the telepath is unlikely to use it, when Methos gave him a name to call him already. Though he wonders if either name is actually the man's real name, he suspects Methos is more likely the real one than Adam.

Xavier blinks, a little surprised at the threat his guest has delivered over the phone, but he doesn't say anything yet, since it's entirely possible that Logan and Sabretooth aren't the only ones in the world who have the near-invulnerability the healing factor they possess provides them. There's still a faint frown on his face, regardless, and he can see the deeper frown on Scott's face, the shift of weight as the younger man straightens before he opens his mouth to speak.

Not just yet, Scott. He doesn't speak aloud, preferring not to allow their guest to hear the admonishment.

"Sorry," Methos says, wincing. "That was...an old friend." MacLeod is the most annoying Immortal on the planet, but he's still a friend. "The man I need to talk to was out, but Mac will give him the message." He's not about to call HQ again; Joe had already read him the riot act once for calling them at all.

Ororo raises an eyebrow, accepting the thicker file that is the information on Sabretooth from Xavier. "You threaten to shoot friends?" She doesn't entirely understand why he'd do that, but there's only a hint of disapproval in her voice, and a faint frown on her face.

"Only when it won't be permanent -- and even then, only to make a point," Methos says, smiling easily. "I've done it before. He bitches for a while, then eventually gets over it. I think he's more worried about my threat to drop him in a well for the next few centuries."

"Ah." Ororo shakes her head, still a bit puzzled by him, but she's not going to let that get in the way of working with Adam for now. Particularly since there's a risk that needs addressed as quickly as they can do so. It's perhaps going to be more difficult without Cerebro and Xavier's telepathy to guide them more precisely, but that doesn't make it impossible. They've done it before.

Methos glances around the room. It goes against every instinct he has, but it will make things a great deal easier. "I assume I can trust all of you to keep this to yourselves?" As they nod, he smiles. "Breaking that promise would be a very bad idea. Ordinarily, I'd rather drink poison than do this, but if you lot are going to understand why this is vital, it's information you have to have." He sighs.

"I'm not a mutant. Neither is MacLeod. We are, however, exceptionally long-lived, and gifted with healing powers far beyond the ordinary. Shoot us, and we'll come back. The same goes for pretty much anything that would be fatal to a mortal. Mac's been around since the end of the sixteenth century, and we're not the only ones. The database that Hack got into gives names, ages, and locations for almost all of us. The worst possible outcome here is exposure, not a few permanent deaths."

Methos himself will worry about lost Quickenings, but it's not an aspect of Immortality that he feels comfortable explaining. "That happens on a fairly regular basis. Exposure, on the other hand... It's happened a few times, and it's never ended well."

"Humans fear what they do not understand, and hate what they fear." Ororo watches him, the explanation making his earlier comments to MacLeod a little less worrisome, or at least a bit less confusing. Something rather like most people's - mortal people's - rough-housing, if with more lethal-sounding methods, or at least, that's how she's internalizing it. Simpler that way. "Much as they fear and hate mutants."

"There are few methods which might permanently ensure Sabretooth's death, and I am reluctant to recommend that either he or Miss Anderson are removed as threats in that fashion." Xavier prefers to find a more peaceful solution to the problem, but he's aware that there might not be a way to convince Hack not to reveal the information she'd stolen if she felt threatened. Or even a way to prevent her, if she demonstrates some of the cunning he know she possesses.

"I'm absolutely certain I could find a way to take him out," Methos says flatly. He's given all sorts of thought to the problem during the course of the trip from Washington State to the Insitute. "Hack would be even easier -- and if you can't get them under control, I'll bloody well do it. Ask Logan, if you don't believe me. That said, if there's a solution that doesn't involve death, I'm all for it."

Logan shrugs when Xavier looks at him, a warning thought not to pry the one he's keeping at the front of his mind. That, and the fact he'd probably do the same if he were in the same position, worried for the safety of friends. Even the the other X-Men would, despite Xavier's desire for a more peaceful solution. They're none of them above doing so.

"Hannah had trouble with authority figures all through the time she spent here." Scott shakes his head. "The only way to control her isn't worth using." He knows that the serum Stryker had developed would likely work on Hack, but even on her, he doesn't like the idea of using that to control her. Since it would only drive her to fury if - or rather when, he was convinced - someone got her free. And he's not quite sure who he'd be more worried about doing so, Sabretooth or her older sister.

"I wouldn't use that on anyone," Methos snarls. "And you can take it for granted that my morals are a bit more flexible than you're used to." He shakes his head, trying to hide a fury that didn't, unfortunately, die with Stryker. "I've broken slaves before, and still I wouldn't go that far." Shaking his head, he adds, "Death would be kinder." That particular mercy is one he's all too familiar with. He still can't convince himself that that hadn't been what Kronos was looking for when he'd sought him out in Seacouver.

The fury from Adam makes Scott draw himself up, ready to protest he wasn't suggesting that they use it, the words dying in his throat as he reigns in his temper before it can get the better of him. Glowering at Adam for a long moment before he relaxes back against the doorframe.

"You don't have to control her to keep her from sharing the information." Logan shrugs when they look to him. "Just keep her distracted until she gets herself wrapped up in something else." Wait until she's settled herself back into whatever habits she has, let her refocus her attention on Sabretooth. The way she's been since she met him, at least from what he can tell from her emails.

"Mortals don't get distracted, not when Immortality is involved," Methos snarls. "They were tearing us apart for our secret at Belsen even as the British closed in on them." It should, based on Xavier's history with Erik Lensherr, be a palpable hit.

Xavier flinches, and Logan straightens, his eyes narrowing at Methos a moment. Seeing Scott doing much the same out of the corner of his eye isn't a surprise, nor the hint of dark clouds gathering outside the windows. The protective instinct they all have roused at the dig at Xavier.

It's a long moment before Xavier speaks, his voice steady and calm, though the steel underneath is a sign that Adam's certainly gotten his attention. "Miss Anderson might not be distracted from Immortality, but might I suggest you read her file?" He has picked up on Logan's certainty that Hack's likely to return her attention, sooner or later, to Sabretooth, and while he's not as certain of it as the feral mutant, he's willing to trust Logan's judgment call on the young woman.

The information in the file is basic enough; interesting, that she's managed to dig up at least bits and pieces of the truth about Logan. Methos is grateful for Immortal memory, because there's some information in here that might prove useful, and he doesn't think he'll be given another chance at it. "She doesn't seem to have gotten distracted from her crusade against you," he tells Logan pointedly, tossing the file back onto the desk.

Logan shrugs, not fazed by Methos's comment on Hack's focus. "It's not just her crusade." She just preferred a more distant method of taunting him, rather than Sabretooth's more physical and direct tactics. "And she hasn't bothered anyone else here."

"Not consistantly, at least." Ororo passed the file on Sabretooth over to Adam, preferring not to read more than she had of the violent history of the feral mutant.

Methos doesn't bother to do more than skim Sabretooth's file, checking for information that isn't in the files he himself stole from Stryker. "Lovely," he says sourly. There's nothing in there so bad that he hasn't done it himself, or at least seen it done at one time or another; it's the lack of control, he thinks, that bothers him the most, and largely because it's...sloppy. "How has he not gotten caught yet?"

"Mr. Creed has shown a good deal of luck in his dealings with employers." Xavier notes Adam's reduced attention to Sabretooth's file, though he's not entirely surprised. If the man has worked with Stryker for any real length of time, he's likely met Sabretooth, or at least heard of his involvement with Stryker. "At the moment, there is evidence he may be working primarily for the US government, though that's not a matter which anyone is likely to confirm, due to the nature of the work for which he is suited."

"I can probably find out," Methos mutters. The Watchers have people in practically every branch of the government, and while Joe has repeatedly objected to Methos' using the Watchers as his own private intelligence service, in this instance he really can't object too much -- and this time he'll be able to direct activities rather than working behind the scenes. "Any idea what he's doing for them?"

"Killing people." Logan's voice is flat, and certain, though he has nothing more than gut instinct to go on. "It's what he's good at."

"There is evidence that he's assassinated individuals, as well as other jobs which involve violence and intimidation," Xavier confirms, knowing the contents of the folder, and those who have confirmed the reports of jobs Sabretooth has taken. Even if they couldn't always trace who had hired him.

"He's not the only one," Methos says, and keeps himself from smiling *that* smile only by sheer willpower. Sabretooth is stronger and faster, and can probably take him easily if they're face to face -- but Methos plans on cheating. A lot. And as good as he is at killing people, he's even better at cheating. He's had five thousand years in which to learn how, and he's been an assiduous student. "I can take him, if it comes down to that." He doesn't mention that it will require a sniper rifle, or maybe several pounds of explosives.

"He heals nearly as quickly as Logan." Scott shakes his head, uncertain that anyone can take down Sabretooth for long. Perhaps temporarily, they've all proven that's possible, but he's never stayed down for long. "There's nothing we've found that would kill him."

Logan stays silent, as he's fairly certain there are ways that could kill Sabretooth, and even himself. And he's not about to encourage anyone thinking about ways that will keep one of them down.

"If I blow him to bits and then bury those bits several miles apart from one another, I'm fairly sure it will take," Methos says flatly. It's the sort of ruthlessness that most people aren't willing even to contemplate, but it comes to him as easily as breathing. "If that doesn't work, there's always cement." He's kept down any number of inconvenient Immortals over the years. Kronos was only the first -- and he's been plotting ways to keep Logan and his brother down since he first ran across them in Stryker's files, just in case.

"I would prefer to find a less lethal solution to Mr. Creed's activities, though I am concerned there isn't anything that would suffice." Xavier doesn't flinch at the ruthlessness, familiar in it from Magneto. It is, however, something that bears watching, and being aware of. "He is, however, capable of cutting through steel with his claws, and any attempt to imprison him would necessarily involve some manner of restraints which his claws are incapable of slicing through."

"We could always cut his hands off," Methos suggests, then wants to bite his tongue for not thinking it through before speaking. It's not a twenty-first century way of thinking, or even a twentieth-century one, for all the barbarity of those years. It's something more basic, more elemental, along the lines of cutting off thieves' hands -- remove the ability, and the crime won't happen again.

It's interesting to Xavier that Adam suggests that particular solution, though he expects that it won't work for more than a few hours, or perhaps days. If he would permit that, at least while he's able to curb Adam's actions. If he might be able to convince Adam to remain at the Institute, perhaps as a teacher, he might be able to keep him in check during the school year, but once the summer comes, even that sort of control he'd lose.

"They'll regenerate." Logan shrugs, and moves away from the window. Almost pacing, concerned about what will happen if Adam does carry out any plans to stop Sabretooth. Not so much for Sabretooth or Adam - both men he's sure can take care of themselves. Hack, though... he doesn't know how far she'll go to strike back at anyone who takes Sabretooth away from her.

"What if I cauterize his wrists?" Methos asks. He's deep in it now; he might as well go for broke. There are Immortals who can regenerate limbs -- he did it himself, once, and it was a miserable fifty years until his bloody hand grew back, but at least it *did* -- but he wouldn't want to bet on their being able to if everything that could become a hand is burned beyond repair.

"I don't think that will work, but it might increase the time it takes for them to regenerate." Logan knows more trauma takes more time to heal. "If Rogue didn't pick up personality traits with powers, having her drain him would help as well."

"She has been working on solely absorbing the powers of a mutant when she comes in contact with them, however, even so, I wouldn't recommend that with someone such as Mr. Creed." Xavier doesn't want to expose any of his students to that sort of risk, not if he can avoid it.

Methos makes a mental note not to get anywhere near this Rogue person. Her abilities sound far too much like taking a Quickening for his comfort. "It's beginning to sound like 'dead' is the only way to safely dispose of Sabretooth," he says, and hopes he doesn't sound too bloodthirsty. "If it doesn't last -- well. I'll still be around when he digs himself up." If he isn't, he's fairly sure he can get the Watchers to take care of things for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2010. Unedited.


End file.
